


Scutum

by Good_News_Everyone



Series: Sword and SHIELD [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Background Relationships, Because Samuel L. Jackson that's why, Crack, Crossover, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Spies & Secret Agents, everyone is a BAMF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Good_News_Everyone/pseuds/Good_News_Everyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>‘You know this whole mission is a waste of fuckin’ time, right?’ Eggsy says, slouching down further on the sticky vinyl of the diner bench.</em><br/><em>Roxy cocks a sceptical eyebrow at him from across the table. ‘Three sightings reported in one week,’ she says, ‘all in the same area, all reliable sources. We have to at least entertain the possibility-‘</em><br/><em>‘-Valentine’s dead, Rox,’ he cuts her off. ‘I should know, I’m the one that stabbed him in the fuckin’ heart.’</em> </p>
<p>In which real life is not a movie, real life is not a comic book, and Eggsy and Clint are really bad at karaoke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scutum

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t resist.  
> Fic is a sequel to [Aegis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3675945) but can probably be read as a standalone. Thanks to all the people who posted encouragement for the sequel in the comments!  
> No spoilers for AoU in this fic. Established Harry/Eggsy and Clint/Coulson, but they don’t do much besides flirt and snark at each other a lot.

‘You know this whole mission is a waste of fuckin’ time, right?’ Eggsy says, slouching down further on the sticky vinyl of the diner bench.

Roxy cocks a sceptical eyebrow at him from across the table. Even in an oversized hoodie and ripped skinny jeans her posture is still perfect, and Eggsy makes a mental note to remind her of their cover later. No uni student on a post-exams junket should look this primly poised (or this sober).

‘Three sightings reported in one week,’ she says, ‘all in the same area, all reliable sources. We have to at least entertain the possibility-‘

‘-Valentine’s dead, Rox,’ he cuts her off. ‘I should know, I’m the one that stabbed him in the fuckin’ heart.’ 

‘Well…’ Roxy trails off delicately. ‘You _were_ in rather a hurry to go, ah, celebrate your victory with Princess Tilde, after all. I mean, you didn’t stop to check his pulse, or possibly put a round in his head for good measure…‘

‘This ain’t a movie, Rox,’ Eggsy retorts. ‘If you fatally wound some’un, unless they just happen to have a full trauma team hidin’ in the bushes nearby, they‘re dead. They don’t just pop up a bit later alive an’ well with nothing but a couple scratches to show for it.‘

‘ _Ahem_ ,’ Harry coughs politely over their earpieces.

‘You don’t count and you know it, sweetheart,’ Eggsy says, grinning affectionately. ‘Valentine didn’t even manage to get ‘is bullet through that thick skull of yours.’

‘ _I’m so pleased that our personal relationship hasn’t altered the deferential manner in which you address your senior agent_ ,’ Harry says drily. Eggsy hears Merlin snort with laughter somewhere in the background.

‘If that’s honestly how you feel,’ says Roxy, tapping her nails against the table, ‘then why on earth did you volunteer for this mission?’

‘’Cos unlike some people I ain’t never been to New York before, and when Kingsman’s footing the bill I’d have to be mental not to jump at the chance,’ Eggsy says with a cheeky wink. ‘I’m gonna see Times Square, and the Empire State Building, and Mum’s already asked me to bring her back one of them ‘I Heart NY’ shirts-’

Roxy rolls her eyes and he can practically see her retort forming when suddenly her gaze sharpens and fixes on a point over Eggsy’s left shoulder.

‘You may want to postpone your holiday plans,’ she says, her voice low. ‘I think I see our target. He just came in through the east side entrance – no, don’t turn around. Merlin, can you send the feed from my glasses through to Eggsy’s, please?’

‘ _Rerouting now_ ,’ says Merlin, voice tinny over the speakers, and a digital image flickers into focus on the left lens of Eggsy’s glasses. He squints at the grainy video and his eyes widen in shock.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ he breathes.

‘Merlin, facial recognition match?’ Roxy asks crisply, already pulling her coat on.

‘ _Kingsman database is giving me a fifty-seven percent match for Valentine_ , _no other matches found,_ ’ Merlin says. ‘ _It’s not definitive, but I can’t do better than that given the hoodie and sunglasses he’s got on. Sorry, Lancelot.’_

‘Fuck,’ Eggsy hisses angrily, hastily throwing some crumpled bills on the table and getting up, Roxy close behind him. ‘He’s alive. The crazy lisping wanker’s _alive_. How the _fuck_ did I miss that?’

‘Because I am a good friend, I will refrain from saying ‘I told you so’ until later,’ says Roxy. ‘There - he’s gone into the staff room out back. Come on.’

 

~

 

The service corridor is dimly lit and lined with teetering piles of cardboard boxes, a flicker of neon light just visible from under the single door at the end of the hall. Eggsy picks his way noiselessly through the clutter, Roxy covering his six, and they both take up flanking positions on either side of the doorway.

Roxy catches his eye, silently mouths ‘ _three….two….one…’_ and the two of them kick open the flimsy wooden door and charge into the room, guns up. Three startled faces whip around towards them.

Eggsy blinks.

‘Clint?’

‘Eggsy?’ Clint says, lowering his bow.

‘Galahad,’ sighs Coulson, raising one hand to rub at his temple.

‘Director,’ Eggsy says warily, keeping his weapon trained on the third man in the room.

‘Natasha!’ says Roxy brightly to the woman stationed by the door.

‘Roxy,’ Natasha says with a smile, her Widow’s Bite powering down as she lowers her arms.

‘Dr Scott!’ says Clint, grinning. He looks around at the other agents’ blank faces. ‘No one? Really?’

‘I haven’t seen you since Kiev,’ Natasha says conversationally to Roxy. ‘How’ve you been?’

‘Oh, nothing exciting,’ Roxy says, tucking her gun back into its holster. ‘Took down a weapons dealer in Chechnya with Percival, went undercover at the UN for a bit – oh, and I had to take Duchess to the vet the other day, poor thing had an ear infection.’

‘Hey, while we’re playin’ catch up, you mind tellin’ us how you happen to be meetin’ Richmond Valentine in the back room of a New York diner?’ says Eggsy sharply, slightly annoyed that no one appears to be taking the fact he’s aiming a loaded gun at them seriously. ‘Cause I dunno about everyone else, but _I’d_ have sure fuckin’ appreciated knowing the slimy tosser was still alive, if only so’s I could get a second shot at ‘im.’

‘Wait, seriously?’ Clint says. ‘Dude, you stabbed Valentine through the heart with a fucking spear. This isn’t a comic book, people don’t just get magically better from shit like that.’

Coulson clears his throat discreetly.

‘ _Aliens_ ,’ says Clint. ‘Doesn’t count.’

‘I love that your world view allows for aliens, chemically enhanced supersoldiers and flying robot suits, and yet human resurrection is somehow a bridge too far,’ Coulson says drily.

‘Love you too, boss man,’ Clint says with a wink.

The man in the hoodie sighs, the first sound he’s made so far. ‘Barton, Coulson,’ he says, ‘if you keep motherfucking flirting like this, I'm gonna tell Galahad to just fire the goddamn Glock he’s pointing at my head.’

At the sound of the man’s deep, resonant voice, the first sneaking tendril of doubt starts to creep up on Eggsy. It intensifies as the man slowly removes his sunglasses, carefully telegraphing his every movement, to reveal a clouded, milky left eye surrounded by a cross-hatching of scars too furrowed and seamed to be recent.

‘Galahad, this is former SHIELD director Nick Fury,’ Coulson says, carefully. ‘He’s been overseas for some time now, working off the grid. We were meeting today to exchange the intel he’s collected on the remaining HYDRA bases in Eastern Europe.’

‘Merlin?’ Eggsy says, not breaking eye contact with the older man’s one good eye.

‘ _Ah_ ,’ Merlin says, sounding mildly embarrassed. ‘ _They appear to be telling the truth, Galahad. On a second manual run through the facial recognition program, the database turned up a hundred percent match for ‘Fury, Nicholas J.’, Director of SHIELD.’_

‘You’ve got to be kiddin’,’ Eggsy says flatly. ‘How come a system as fancy as Kingsman’s didn’t turn up that match the first time around?’

‘ _Well_ ,’ Merlin drawls, ‘ _it’s because according to our records, Director Fury is supposed to be_ dead _.’_

‘Christ on a bleedin’ _pogo stick_ , does _no one_ just stay dead around here any more?’ Eggsy demands, finally lowering his weapon. He nods towards Fury. ‘Director. Our apologies for this little misunderstandin'.’

‘Don’t sweat it, Galahad,’ says Fury, waving a hand dismissively. He raises his good eyebrow. ‘I _am_ a little curious how you managed to find me, though.’

‘Informant flagged a man actin’ suspiciously in this area,’ Eggsy says.

‘Oddly enough, when you wear sunglasses everywhere, even at night, people tend to notice,’ Roxy chimes in helpfully.

‘I told you to stick with the eyepatch,’ Coulson says to Fury.

‘Well, if a Kingsman informant made me, chances are good some other fuckers did as well,’ Fury says resignedly. ‘Meaning I’m a potential target as soon as I step outside. Phil, I guess you’re stuck guarding me for now, I can pass on the intel while you keep watch. Barton, Romanov, stay close till we know if anyone else is gunning for me.’

‘We’ll be staying in New York a while longer as well,’ Roxy says, tapping at her glasses to end the transmission. ‘Our evac plane isn’t due until tomorrow night, and Arthur says he doesn’t need us back before then.’

‘He leave any orders for the rest of our trip?’ asks Eggsy.

‘ _Have fun, and do try not to cause an international incident this time, darling_ ,’ Roxy recites.

‘That was _one time_ , and it weren’t even a famous pyramid that I blew up,’ Eggsy grumbles.

‘Well then,’ says Natasha thoughtfully. ‘Is there anything around here that can keep four super-spies entertained for a few hours?’

Clint claps his hands together, a glint of mischief in his eye. ‘I have a _fantastic_ idea.’

 

~

 

‘This was a _terrible_ idea,’ Natasha mutters under her breath.

‘ _Whoa-oh, I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien_ ,’ warbles Eggsy on the diner’s decrepit karaoke machine. ‘ _I’m an Englishman in New Yooooork._ ’ Clint, perched on the table next to the machine, is desperately trying not to crack up laughing.

 ‘He’s got quite a nice voice, really,’ comments Roxy. ‘It’s a pity he couldn’t carry a tune even if you gave him a whole stack of buckets.’

‘ _Takes more than combat boots to make a man_ ,’ Eggsy croons, oblivious to the criticism being levelled his way. ‘ _Takes more than a license for a gun…’_

Roxy winces as the other Kingsman hits a particularly off-key high note and drops her head onto the table with a thud. Natasha, sitting at the bar a few feet away, is nursing a beer and pretending not to know any of them.

Clint punches in a new song, grabs the mike from Eggsy and belts out ‘ _Shot through the heaaaart, and you’re to blame - darling you give looooove….’_

‘ _A bad name_ ,’ Eggsy howls along, and the two agents dissolve into snorts of laughter, Eggsy’s arm slung around Clint’s shoulders as the archer air guitars wildly. The diner is deserted now apart from the four of them and a dozen shopping-bag laden tourists in the corner - a combination, no doubt, of the late hour and Eggsy and Clint’s caterwauling.

‘How much have the two of them had to drink tonight?’ asks Natasha, rubbing at her temple.

‘Ah….nothing,’ says Roxy, glancing at their table. ‘That’s _all_ them.’ A familiar opening riff catches her attention and she shouts across the diner ‘Eggsy, if you even _think_ about singing ‘Roxanne’ right now I’ll have your hide, d’you hear me?’

‘You’re a bleedin’ killjoy, Rox,’ Eggsy shouts back, but he changes the song anyway. ‘ _She’s a killer, queeeeeen, gunpowder, gelatine - dynamiiiiite, with a laser beam-_ ’

The karaoke machine abruptly cuts out, along with every light in the diner. As much as Roxy would love to believe in a benevolent and music-loving God, she’s been a Kingsman long enough that she’s unsurprised and only slightly resigned when the lights flicker back on to reveal every single one of the tourists drawing semi-autos from their tote bags.

‘Hands in the air, all of you!’ barks a bearded man in a Gap T-shirt.

Roxy shrieks, clasping her hands to her face. Across the room, there’s a squeal of feedback as Eggsy drops the mike and Clint indignantly blurts out ‘What the _f-_ ‘

The bearded man casts a quick, dismissive glance at the two of them before hauling Roxy out of the booth by her arm and shoving her in the general direction of Clint and Eggsy. ‘Willis, keep an eye on them,’ he orders one of the towering, burly men flanking him. ‘You boys keep quiet and don’t give us any trouble, and maybe you and your little girlfriend can walk out of here unharmed.’

He turns his attention back to where Natasha is sitting very still, alone at the bar.

‘Well, well,’ he says, strutting slowly over towards her. ‘The infamous Black Widow. Looks like our informant might've been right about Fury being in the area.’

‘What, a girl can’t go out for a drink alone in this city?’ Natasha says, fingers whitening around the bottle in her hand. ‘Contrary to popular belief, I’m not Fury’s secretary – not that he needs one, given he’s been dead for a year and change. That tends to cut down your social calendar a bit.’

‘Yeah, you’re not the first person to tell me that the bastard’s dead,’ says the man, rolling his eyes. ‘But our employer’s the kind of person who likes to be sure. And for the kind of cash they’re shelling out? We’re willing to humor them.’

‘Fury didn't have many enemies with the resources to hire your kind of firepower,’ says Natasha, eyes narrowing. ‘Who sent you? Fisk? It's his town, it'd make sense-’

The bearded merc makes a _bzzt_ noise. ‘Not even close. I’m disappointed,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘No, Ms Sarkissian is the one handing out the benjamins, as a matter of fact. She’s got a _real_ grudge against your boss, let me tell you. We all thought she was just a crazy bitch, but hey, finding an incognito Avenger lurking around this end of town at this hour…that makes it seem a little less crazy. In fact, it feels like a meet to me. Meaning that if we lean on _you_ , we've got a straight shot at Fury.’

 ‘Supposing – just supposing - you’re right,’ Natasha says, eyeing the merc warily. ‘That would mean I’m loyal enough to willingly endanger myself for a meet with Fury. So why the hell would I do _anything_ to help you find him?’

Bearded Man _tsks_ at her. ‘And here I heard you were smarter than that,’ he said. ‘See, I got no doubt that you could take anything we tried to make you talk. But we’ve got a couple civvies in here with us –‘ he nods over towards Clint, Eggsy and Roxy in the corner ‘and I figure what with the whole ‘hero’ thing, you’re not gonna want them to get hurt. Me, on the other hand, I only care that I’m getting well paid for intel on Fury, and I don’t mind spilling their guts if it gets you to spill yours. So are you going to tell us where the one-eyed old fucker is, or are things gonna have to get messy?’

Natasha sighs.

‘I suppose it’ll have to be the latter,’ she says, and places her beer down carefully on the bar.

In a flash, Natasha launches herself off her chair, scissors her thighs around the neck of Bearded Man and rolls, flipping him to the ground with a bone-shattering thud. The nearest merc gapes at his unconscious leader for a moment before his face darkens and he raises his gun, spitting out ‘You fucking _bitch-’;_ a blur of silver whistles through the air and he drops the gun with a howl of pain, his comrades staring in shock at the steak knife neatly impaled between his thumb and index finger.

‘They always know who _you_ are,’ Clint’s voice comes from the corner, sounding mildly annoyed. ‘How come _I_ never get recognised by the bad guys? I’m an Avenger too.’

‘Probably because your face wasn’t plastered across every TV in the nation for weeks after smack talking those assholes in the Senate,’ Natasha says.

‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Clint. They wrote us off as civilians as well, so they’re clearly idiots,’ says Roxy, and the remaining mercs turn sharply to find that she’s circled around to block the main doors while their focus was on Natasha. Eggsy is lowering the unconscious body of their guard to the ground, while Clint is casually tossing and catching a second knife in one hand.

‘Bit unobservant, that, bruvs,’ Eggsy says, rising easily to his feet.  ‘We had _you_ all pegged pretty much the minute you walked in. Carryin’ that many weapons stands out, even in America.’

‘Unobservant and _clumsy_ ,’ Natasha adds. ‘There’s an _art_ to effective interrogation, you know. You get so much more if you make yourself look vulnerable and ignorant and let your target fill in the gaps themselves. Jumping straight to intimidation and threats of bodily harm against innocent bystanders is just _rude.’_

‘ _Extremely_ rude,’ Roxy agrees. She eyes the heavily armed men in front of her. ‘There’s a saying the head of our agency is rather fond of – it’s possible you may have heard of it. It goes like this: Manners-‘ She shoots the bolt on the door.

‘Maketh-‘ continues Eggsy.

‘Man,’ Roxy finishes, and lets the blackjacks up her sleeves drop into her hands.

 

~

 

‘Well, that was rather anticlimactic,’ Natasha says, leaning back on her chair with her feet propped up on a prone, groaning body.

‘Minions,’ Roxy sighs. ‘They just don’t make them like they used to. Not a laser eye or bionic limb among them.’

‘I like those watch darts you used on the first guy,’ Clint says admiringly to Eggsy. ‘What are they, tranquillisers?’

‘Sedatives mixed with ‘n amnesiac agent,’ Eggsy says, grunting as he drags another unconscious mercenary over to where the archer is busily tying them up.

‘Nice,’ Clint says. ‘I want some of those. Tasha, why don’t I have some of those?’

‘Clint, you already have literally half a dozen different types of trick arrow,’ Natasha says.

‘Yeah, and now I want seven, is that too much to ask?’

Eggsy makes a satisfied noise and Roxy looks over to find him holding a T-shirt he’s clearly pulled off the rather brawny man at his feet. He holds it up for her inspection. It says, in bold black print, ‘I ♥ NY’.

‘I think your mum might prefer something closer to her size,’ she says. ‘Also, possibly not covered in blood.’

Eggsy ponders this for a moment, then says ‘Fair do’s’ and tosses the shirt back over his shoulder. Clint snags it out of the air.

‘Clint,’ Natasha sighs as the other Avenger pulls the shirt on.

‘What, I’m not allowed to love New York?’ Clint says innocently.

‘ _Am I going to have to fight New York for your affections_?’ asks Coulson over the comm Natasha has thoughtfully placed on the bar top.

‘You know you’re always first in my heart, boss,’ Clint says, blowing a kiss at the camera, ‘after Pizza Dog, of course.’

‘ _I’m touched_ ,’ says Coulson, his voice even drier than usual. ‘ _Fury sends his thanks, by the way - we managed to evacuate the area unnoticed. Natasha, excellent decoy work drawing out those mercenaries. Galahad, Lancelot, I appreciate you helping to take them down.’_ Eggsy salutes lazily. _‘I have SHIELD personnel en route to pick up your captives, ETA ten minutes._ ’

 ‘Excellent,’ pronounces Clint, slinging an arm around Eggsy’s shoulder. ‘Perfect timing, I’m starved. C’mon, let’s find someplace where it doesn’t smell like cordite and we don’t have to fake being shit at karaoke to drive the civvies out.’

‘’Fake’?’ echoes Eggsy blankly.

Clint pauses for a long moment, and then pats the younger agent lightly on the shoulder. ‘You know what? Never mind,’ he says. ‘Let’s go eat. Have you ever tried shawarma? Me and Nat know this great place just a couple of blocks from here…’

 

~

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second fic I’ve ended in a shawarma joke. I’m tempted to make it an ongoing thing. XD
> 
> The songs that the boys sing in karaoke are:  
> [Englishman in New York](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d27gTrPPAyk) by Sting. This song is the anthem of Kingsman and no one can tell me otherwise. ‘Manners maketh man’ is even in the lyrics. _Twice._  
> [You Give Love A Bad Name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KrZHPOeOxQQ) by Bon Jovi. Jeremy Renner has said in interviews that Hawkeye’s go-to karaoke song would be [Blaze of Glory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfmYCM4CS8o), so I kept it as a Bon Jovi song, but the opening line of this one fits Hawkeye better. :)  
> [Roxanne](https://youtu.be/3T1c7GkzRQQ) by The Police. I'm willing to bet Roxy's heard this song played as a joke enough times that she no longer finds it at all amusing.  
> [Killer Queen](https://youtu.be/2ZBtPf7FOoM) by Queen. Self explanatory. (And yes, Eggsy is singing all British bands). 
> 
> Title is after the classical Roman legionnaires’ shields, which allowed them to fight together in formation. I thought it was appropriate for a team-up fic. :)


End file.
